


Just a Joke

by forgetful01



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetful01/pseuds/forgetful01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee crosses the line with Dave while under the protection of Bro and Dave comes up with a plan for blackmail. Gamzee/Bro</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He had been hanging around your house for over a month. And it had pissed you off from the very start. The troll had no concern for objects that weren't either his or Bro's, purposely leaving small scratches on records when he claimed he was "Just fuckin' looking!" and somehow managed to track dirt into your room, despite the flights of stairs he had to walk up just to even get to your apartment. It was frustrating and infuriating and you couldn't do a damn thing about it. Because then Bro would have known you caved.

It was a bet you had started a little over a month ago. At first it was harmless pranks to try to get under each others skin. But then it escalated out of control and one night Bro brought home the one person you never thought you'd see in the apartment.

"Hey kid, put the controller down and say hello."  
"Fuck you, I'm on the last level."

Bro frowned behind his shades and threw a smuppet at your back, which you easily dodged. Years of practice. You paused the game and turned to look over the edge of the couch. "What's so important anyway? You get a stripper or some…" Words died on your tongue as your eyes widened. Standing next to Bro, tall and gangly with spotted pants and a black t-shirt, was Gamzee Makara. And he was staring at you like he just won the lottery.

"…thing. So you did get a stripper." You turn back to the video game, ignoring the two of them as Gamzee laughed. "Be careful, I heard he bites."

"He's a dealer."

The game paused again and you turned back around, looking more at Bro than at the troll. "You're buying weed again?"

"Not like I don't get it at clubs anyway. Besides, this one can find better stuff than you do."

"I doubt it."

"Believe it brother," Gamzee interjected with a mock friendly smile on his face. "Must be one of those superior races shit."

You flat out ignore them both as they laugh and head back to Bro's room, leaving you be with the glitching game. You couldn't believe Bro went this far.

A week after he arrived, things started to change. Faygo filled the fridge instead of swords, and bike horns littered the floor, occasionally making themselves comfortable on a smuppet nose. Disgusting. But you didn't cave. You tried to forget the Juggalo was even in your personal bubble of existence. But that was hard to do when he hogged the showers in the morning, emerging out of the steamy bathroom sporting one of Bro's shirts and a pair of borrowed boxers. That was impossible to overlook.

"What's with the getup?"

"Hm? Oh this, motherfucker?" He plucked at the shirt in between bites of a sandwich, spilling crumbs over the kitchen counter as he comfortably leaned on it. "Your Bro let me borrow it. Comfy as shit too."

"As horrible as that is to think about, how the hell did you get his shirt? He just gave it to you?"

Gamzee's face spread into a smirk of satisfaction and he shoved the last bite into his mouth before brushing the crumbs off of the shirt. "Wouldn't you like to fuckin' know." With that he left the room and you were left to grit your teeth in agitation.

You walk into your bedroom and see him standing there, a priceless record in his claws. You stop dead in your tracks, raising a finger to warn him. "You better put that down, giggleshit. That record is worth more than you can even fathom and if there's even as much as one scratch on it-"

The sound of a loud crack sounded through the room and Gamzee held up the two pieces of the record with a false apologetic smile. "Oops. Sorry brother, my bad." He dropped the record and shoved past Dave, heading to the hallway. "It sucks when something you cherish gets fucking destroyed for no reason, doesn't it?" A slam of your door and he was blocked from view. Was this really all about the feud between you two, post-scratch? This was ridiculous. No, it was stupid. With a sigh you pick up the shattered remains of the record and toss them to the side, on top of a stack of Game Bro's. Pesterchum started up as your computer booted, your fingers drumming along the surface of the desk. You had to get back at him. This wasn't just a harmless prank, that record was priceless. But just getting back at him wasn't enough. You had to win over him and stay over him. You needed blackmail. You swivel your chair around, looking around the room at nothing in particular as you thought. How could you get blackmail on a troll. It was like trying to intimidate a beast five times your size and knew you had no real chance against it.

Until your eyes rested on your digital camera and a smile came to your lips. Oh fuck yes.


	2. The Plan is Executed

"Where's the Juggalo?" You ask as you lean against his door frame watching Bro as he lay on his bed, back propped against the wall and tinkering around with a new puppet.

"Hell if I know. It's not my job to keep an eye on him."

"So it's just your job to fuck him and let him wreck all my shit." Bro looked over to you, silent for a moment before asking what you meant. "He broke one of my records. He's torn apart my room a total of three times. Bro I get it okay, you won the bet, big whoop. Now he doesn't have to come back."

"He broke one of your records?" He asked again, almost deadpan if not for a small trace of amusement in his voice.  
"Yes. And I'm tired of him hanging around like some kind of parasitic troll."

"Tough luck little man." He looks back at the puppet, a clear sign the conversation is over. You glare from behind the safety of your shades before shutting his door.

Another week of hell. Bro's working late with his gigs and Makara makes himself right at fucking home, the asshole. He helps himself to sleeping in Bro's room or the futon, always sporting one of the elder Striders shirts. The lingering smell of smoke still hangs around his lanky body but there's a new element there. It almost smells like Bro. And it almost makes you sick each time he walks by with a smug knowing smirk plastered on his face. And you hate him. You really honestly hate him.

It was a day or two after Bro started working late that things got out of hand. Six in the morning you woke to the smell of smoke and something burning. The blankets were thrown off as you scrambled out of your room, clad only in boxers. As you ran into the kitchen you saw Gamzee with a frying pan in hand, watching whatever meal he had tried to make be engulfed in flames. You stop in the doorway and he looks over to you, beaming enthusiastically as he called out, "Morning brother! How do you like your eggs?"

A few seconds passed before you could collect yourself, advancing toward him and snatching the pan away to quickly running water over it from the faucet. He watched you leisurely, leaning against the counter. You snap your head over to him, feeling as though your teeth might crack under the pressure of you clenching them and slam the pan into the sink, water splashing over the edge and onto the floor.

"Okay Makara, what the fuck is your problem?"

"Me?" He says in mock surprise. "I ain't got a problem Strider. You're the one all stressed out and shit."

You have to pull your hand away from the handle of the still hot cooking equipment and set it on the counter. You might have smacked him upside the head with it if you hadn't. "Look Juggalo, I don't know what the hell this is about-"

"Of course you fucking don't." He interrupted, the smile starting to look strained around the edges. "You never do. You didn't back then and you still don't."

"What are you even talking about?" You snap, not caring about trying to keep your cool at this point.

"Figure it out asshole." He bites back, turning on his heel. With that he leaves the kitchen, abandoning you to the charred pan and your unrelenting frustration.

"I need to get blackmail on the troll." You say as soon as you hear your bedroom door opening, swiveling around in the computer at your desk. Bro leans in the doorway, an eyebrow slightly raised.

"Why?"

"Not telling. You going to help me or not?"

Bro didn't say anything for a few moments before the smallest hint of a smirk lingered on his lips. "What'd you have in mind?" You get to your feet, picking up the camera abandoned on the floor and hold it out to him as dramatically as you could. He snorts and turns the camera over in his hand before tossing it back to you. "I think I know where this is going."

"I need it to happen tonight."

"Give me five minutes. Better get in there before we do." He shot his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his own bedroom before leaving the room. Five minutes. Five minutes. Holy shit. You can hear the two of them in the kitchen. Bro was saying something low and muffled. Hoping he had Gamzee distracted enough you grab up the camera and hightail it to the elder Striders room. You slip into the closet just as they burst into the room, Bro shoving at Gamzee; and Gamzee backpedaling to the bed. As he fell onto it, there was a creak of springs that sounded too loud in the near silence. Bro was on top of him in an instant and even you were impressed by his speed. Hastily you fumble with the camera, going to the video setting and hitting record. The camera was put on charge overnight, ensuring that the battery's lifespan would hold out throughout the entire event. With a soft beep the red signal was on and you directed the lenses at the two.

They had advanced since the moment you looked away, Bro's hands roaming under the Capricorns shirt and the gray lanky arms draped around the toned shoulders. You lightly swallow and hold the camera steady, not daring yourself to blink. It was impossible not to stare at. How the two moved together and against each other had your mouth drying much faster than it should have and you took a small half step closer to the small gap in between the door and the door frame. Gamzee's already fumbling for the pants and Bro doesn't seem to react as he continued to bite and suckle at the underside of his jaw, every so often landing a kiss on the Adams apple. You can just barely hear the soft whispered words between the two, broken occasionally by a light chuckle from Gamzee.

This is how it stays for a few minutes. Both are shirtless now, whoa when the fuck did that happen, and Gamzee has his pants and boxers to his knees, Bro in between his legs. You slightly angle the camera to get just the right shot of his head bobbing in a rhythm. Watching this from the outside had to be different than actually participating. There were so many small things you notice as the two carry on. The occasional microscopic twitch that resided in the corner of Bro's lips, coming out in a smirk when Gamzee got a little too vocal. The way the grey toes curled in pleasure, the tenseness of his shoulders, the small outcries that were your older brother's name.

They're chest to chest with each other, the younger panting slightly harder as his claws threaten to rip through the fabric of the blankets caught tight in his fists, Bro leaning over him. "How about you lay down for me." With little to no hesitation the troll spreads out on his back before he's flipped and turned, laying in the middle of the bed, head pointed toward the edge, and it's obvious he wasn't expecting the change. But he certainly wasn't going to defy it.

Gamzee is flat on his stomach, mouth pressed to the blankets as he stares ahead, directly in the direction of the camera. This wasn't part of the plan you had discussed with Bro, but it was definitely a nice touch. Bro is behind him, lubing up and you tell yourself over and over you are not staring. They seem to be saying something but you're finding it hard to try to concentrate on the words. Slowly the penetration happens and you have the joy of watching Gamzee's reactions head on, every gasp recorded every flick of an eyelash committed to digital memory.

"You broke his record."

You nearly drop the camera as Bro slams himself forward, pushing Gamzee into the blankets. The troll gasped and squirmed under him, his words coming out in shudders. "Didn't…mean to.."

"You broke." Another slam. "His." Another. "Record."

"Fuck-fuck I'm sorry fuck I'm sorry it was just a joke-"

"You did it on purpose. You want this punishment."

"Yes..God yes, Bro, yes.."

The camera is shaking and you have to lower it for a moment, leaning back against the closet wall to steady yourself. When you suggested this to Bro, you didn't expect this kind of result. Now all you can hear are dark whisperings and pleading agreements and a rhythmic creak of the bed in time with the noises. Steady Strider, steady. The camera is raised once more and back in focus, glowing red eye continuously watching, recording.

"Damn babe, better quiet down…" A few well-placed bites to the shell of Gamzee's ear had him shivering as Bro's words ghosted over his skin. "You keep up all this noise and Dave might hear you.."

"Don't- Don't care if he…fuck Bro.." His pelvis bucked back against the bulge, and the older man gave a particularly hard thrust that had the troll gasping.

"What's that Makara? You don't care if he does?" Gamzee managed a few nods, somewhat sucking in his bottom lip to bite at it, partially for the pain and partially in an attempt to keep himself quiet. Yes, yes, yes. Despite his efforts to lower the volume of his speech, the rhythmic yes, yes, yes is overwhelming and thudding in your ears like a ground bass. You can feel yourself shaking with the effort of ignoring the persistent heat between your legs that you somehow hadn't noticed before and you decide to grit your teeth and bear it. You can't risk Gamzee noticing you recording this. Especially with the obvious problem under your black jeans.

Gamzee's getting louder and you have to bring a clenched fist up to your mouth to stifle any sort of sound that might slip from your lips. Bro on the other hand seems to only want to hear more of them. "You like this?" He growled into the Capricorns ear. "Like feeling my big cock inside of you?" The answer he received was a needy and almost definitely pathetic whine, the bony hips snapping back harder. More insistently. "Mmm, speak up, Makara." He purred, dipping his head down and biting at the back of the trolls' neck. "I can't hear you." He licked at the bite, only to bite at it harder.

Just as instructed, Gamzee spoke up. And fuck if you never knew those kinds of noises could come out of a Juggalo waste like that. The free hand that isn't holding the camera is now lingering at the hem of your pants and you try to keep your breath even. Come on, just do it. Just do it. Your eyes squeeze shut behind the shades and your hand ventures downward. Just as a loose grip is established, you hear the noises changing. Their louder, faster, so desperate and so needy and no fuck this can't be over yet, you aren't ready for it to be over yet-

But it is. Gamzee is spent and laying on the bed like a rag doll, Bro over him. He tips his chin in the direction of the closet door, silently warning you to not move a muscle, as he hoists the troll into his arms and left the room. Most likely they're headed for the futon. With a shaky exhale and a tent pitched in your pants you click a button on the camera and it shuts off with a whirr.

A week later and Gamzee was still around. Bro never mentioned the original bet to you, and you didn't either. He never mentioned the recording and you didn't either. It was a few days after things had settled down that you decided to re-watch the video. For an amateur job, it's not half bad. But your face flushes as you hastily close the video before either members of your household could hear your own voice recorded, begging and whispering on a loop, "Gamzee..."


End file.
